by Tony Parsons
He moved over to his own mare and vaulted into the saddle so quickly and smoothly that it seemed to be done in the blink of an eye. ‘Okay, now just put a little pressure on your rein to turn her. Use your leg against her side when you do it. All good horses are broken in to respond to leg as well as rein pressure. All right, let’s go.’
‘Not too fast, Andrew, please,’ she protested.
He took a length of redhide from his back pocket and, leaning across, clipped the end of it to the old mare’s bridle. ‘That should ease your mind. She can’t get away. Keep your back straight and your elbows close to your sides. They shouldn’t flap about.’
They walked the horses past the dog yards and down to the first gate, which led towards the high country beyond the homestead. Andrew bent across his mare to open the gate, led Lady through and then turned and shut the gate. ‘Now, where would you like to go?’ he asked.
‘Nowhere too difficult. Can we just go to the creek? It doesn’t look too rough.’
‘Sure we can. If we follow the creek down far enough we come up against Angus Campbell’s boundary fence.’
‘How far is that?’ Anne asked fearfully.
‘Not real far. Maybe two miles.’
‘Two miles. I don’t think I could last two miles. Then there’s two miles back.’
‘We don’t have to go so far. And I’m sure you can make it.’
When indeed they did reach the boundary, Andrew unclipped the lead. ‘You don’t need that any more.’
Apart from the strain on her legs and a slight soreness in her rear end, Anne found that she was coping quite well. After a while she began to loosen up and could even take an interest in the surrounding countryside.
They turned back from the boundary fence and retraced the route they had taken. It was roughly parallel with the creek, which was lined for most of its distance with she-oaks. In several places the creek deepened and widened and Andrew said that he had often swum in those holes.
When Anne looked at her watch she found that they had been riding for about three hours. Time had simply flown. Whether Andrew had sensed that she was tiring or whether he had always meant to stop under the big apple gum Anne did not know, but the next moment she felt herself being lifted from the saddle and placed gently on the ground. It felt a little strange for a few moments, although after she had walked up and down a few times, the stiffness almost left her.
‘You’ll feel it later on,’ Andrew said as he watched her. He had gathered sticks and started a small fire while she was trying to ease the stiffness from her legs. He took a billy from the chaff bag on his saddle, filled it from the creek and set it against the fire. He then unsaddled the horses and spread Lady’s saddle blanket beside the trunk of the gum. ‘Sit yourself down on that,’ he said.
Anne gratefully sank to the ground.
‘Once you get used to riding, you won’t have a problem. It’s just that your muscles are being used in different ways. If you rode a bit each day for a week or so, you’d be right as rain. Have a bath as soon as you get back to the house. That will ease a lot of the stiffness.’
Anne considered this suggestion. Taking a bath in the home of a man you were going out with for the first time seemed a rather intimate course of action.
She enjoyed the lunch and was pleased she had gone to the trouble of selecting some nice ham to go with the lettuce and tomatoes. She had also included some cold baked potatoes, which she noted Andrew seemed to fancy. The tea, laced with condensed milk, was something else. There was more fruitcake to go with the tea. Andrew ate every crumb, and so did she. She hadn’t felt so hungry in years.
‘Do you do this often?’ she asked.
‘My mother and I used to have a lot of picnics. I can remember coming here from when I was a very small boy. I had a pony that my grandfather bought for me as a birthday present. She was my first pony and a real beauty.’
‘What happened to her?’ she asked.
‘A rotten snake killed her. A big brown. She was too quiet and got too close to the mongrel. Why anyone ever put snakes on earth God only knows.’
‘God must have had a reason,’ she said. ‘Perhaps it was to eat mice.’
‘They wouldn’t eat enough mice to make a difference. One minute you’ve got a horse or dog worth a lot of money and the next they’re dead. I’m real crooked on snakes. Snakes, foxes and rabbits. They’re all rubbish, in Australia at least. On one property between here and Cassilis I heard they killed two hundred and fifty thousand rabbits in six months. The trappers were running traps three times a day.’
‘I suppose nobody knew how much they would multiply,’ Anne said as she accepted a second cup of steaming tea. ‘They probably thought rabbits would be useful as food,’ she suggested.
‘More likely they brought them for sport, like they brought the mongrel foxes.’
‘I’ve read that some people think sheep have caused problems, too. They say they’ve contributed to erosion,’ Anne said.
‘Maybe there has been some erosion through overstocking, especially when the rabbits were bad, but sheep are very useful animals,’ he said as he settled himself against a log. ‘Sheep would be one of the most useful animals you could have. They’ll clothe you, feed you and you can even make cheese from their milk. No kidding. Cattle are good too but they are damned expensive things to feed.’
Anne sat back, enjoying hearing Andrew talk about his thoughts and feelings. She sensed that there was so much under his big, rough exterior.
‘Sheep put this country on its feet,’ he continued. ‘Some people would say it’s queer me being so keen on sheep after what happened in Scotland.’
‘What happened in Scotland?’ Anne asked. She knew from her history lectures that a great many Scots had been executed, imprisoned and deported after Culloden. Surely that was too long ago to affect the feelings of a bushman like Andrew MacLeod?
‘Between the English and the great and noble clan chieftains, the Scottish countryside – or at least large areas of it – was cleared of people to make way for sheep, mostly Cheviot sheep. Crofts and houses were destroyed and people were either left to starve or forced to accept deportation. People who had depended on their lairds for a thousand years or more were simply told to leave. And when sheep didn’t return enough money, many ancestral areas were sold to wealthy Englishmen. What do you think they did with those ancient holdings? Used them as game parks for their English friends. Game parks! They even kept tallies of their kills. These ran into thousands. And the new owners donned the kilt and strutted like the lairds they replaced.
‘People trumpet about British justice but there was very little evidence of it where the Scots and the Irish were concerned. There was very little justice and very little prosperity for the average person in Britain, and conditions didn’t improve until the royalty lost most of its powers. Not that many politicians are much better – they’re only interested in short-term solutions which make them look good. At least we can throw them out every few years.’
‘You do have some strong views, Andrew,’ Anne said.
‘Sorry. I don’t usually sound off. People say I don’t talk much. Grandfather Tormid used to say that what a man did counted for more than what he said. That’s my thinking, too.’
‘Having sheep also gives you plenty of opportunities for working your sheepdogs,’ Anne suggested, keen to keep Andy talking.
‘That too. But there’s more to it than that. Owning a piece of land gives a fellow a kind of independence. Maybe it is there in the MacLeod blood because the family were great landowners in Scotland. Some people would say that High Peaks is just a rough hill-country property, but it’s my rough hill-country property, and while I keep paying back the bank nobody can take it away from me. I can do as I like on it, within reason anyway.’
‘It really is lovely up here, Andrew,’ Anne said with a smile. ‘What are we going to do now?’
He grinned in the way she was coming to like very much. ‘If it
was dark we could go eel-bashing. You ever been eel-bashing?’
‘Eel-bashing! What in heaven’s name is eel-bashing?’ she asked, raising her long eyebrows.
‘There’s eels in this creek. Lots of eels. They’re like short snakes. You walk into the creek with a torch or a lantern and belt them with a piece of steel. You can use a twenty-two calibre rifle with the barrel under the surface, but it doesn’t do much for the rifle. When you catch your eel, you pull the skin off like a glove and cut it into short pieces for cooking. You can fry them, with or without batter, or steam them. They make a change from mutton and beef.’
‘I don’t think I’d like to “bash” anything, Andy, but it sounds like the sort of thing my young sister would like. She’s coming to stay with me for a few days, in only a couple of weeks now. Can we leave the eel-bashing until then?’
‘Sure we can. Is your sister like you?’ he asked with his eyes fixed on hers. Anne thought she had never met anyone with such honest, direct eyes.
She shook her head vigorously. ‘Oh no. Kate is much more outgoing than I am. She is a double-certificate nursing sister and is doing her third certificate right now. I can just see her eel-bashing. If she fell in a deep hole she would only laugh. I’m an old sobersides in comparison with her.’
‘I think you’re just right the way you are,’ he said with such candour that she was momentarily overwhelmed.
‘Why, thank you, sir,’ she said, flashing him a dazzling smile.
‘You’re a lot like my mother,’ he added. ‘She was a doer, not a talker. It might sound silly to an outsider, but I think her spirit is still here. Sometimes I can hear her voice.’
‘It is good to remember if the memories are precious,’ Anne replied, and in the next breath, ‘I’m sure I am taking up a lot of your time. Is there anything you have to do?’
‘Well,’ he said, and hesitated. ‘If you feel up to it, perhaps we could ride into the next paddock and have a look at the sheep in there. You need to keep a close watch on them at this time of the year. Flies are the problem.’
Despite her stiffness, Anne consented with a show of enthusiasm. ‘Of course I’m all right. Let’s pack up and go.’
But by midafternoon, Anne was feeling very stiff indeed. Andrew must have noticed her wince because he suddenly turned his horse and headed back towards the creek.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘Home,’ he answered. ‘I’ve seen enough.’
Anne did not want the day to end. For the first time in her life, she was in the company of a man she really liked. And she had a very good idea that he liked her in just the same way.
A fortnight later, Anne found herself back at High Peaks for another day’s riding, this time in the company of her visiting sister, Kate. The pair had been invited to spend a few nights on Andrew’s property. Kate, who had ridden horses in several countries and considered herself to be an adequate rider, had jumped at the chance to spend a day in the saddle in hill country – and she was equally thrilled by the prospect of eel-bashing.
The trio rode and rested in turns, and Anne was pleased to discover she was not quite so stiff on this occasion. They ate lunch in a clearing up by Yellow Rock, which Kate was eager to tackle on horseback. Andrew had had to put his foot down because, although he could see that Kate was a fair rider, only the most experienced riders were up to handling Yellow Rock.
‘You’re a spoilsport, Andrew MacLeod.’ Kate taunted him in a way Anne would not have dared. ‘I’ve been in much higher and rougher country than this.’
‘I don’t want to spoil the day by having to go down Yellow Rock to pick up your pieces,’ Andrew replied. And despite the jocular tone in his voice, Anne – and indeed Kate – knew that his words were not to be taken lightly.
They rode back to the homestead in the soft enchantment of a perfect early summer evening. Andrew left the women to enjoy the setting while he fed the dogs and horses.
After dinner, when the sun had set, he hooked up a trailer to the grey Fergie tractor he had swapped for a shearing job, threw in a bale of straw for Anne and Kate to sit on, and headed for the creek. It was a bumpy ride and there were a lot of squeals before they reached the creek.
‘Andrew MacLeod, I’m sure you put us over those bumps on purpose,’ Anne said.
Andrew grinned. ‘Just trying you out, Anne.’
‘Where are these eels, Andrew?’ Kate asked.
‘All in good time,’ he said and began to strip off his clothes down to a pair of green swimming trunks. Anne and Kate had changed into shorts and brief blouses. Andrew took up his torch and handed them each a length of flat steel with a makeshift handle.
‘You’ll want to take it in turns so you don’t hit each other,’ he said as he waded out into the creek. Anne and Kate followed in his wake. The water was clear in the light of the torch and Kate screamed with excitement when she saw the first dark shape undulate through the water. Andrew chopped at it with a powerful downward slash, tucked the basher under his left arm and thrust his right arm down into the water. It came up holding a wriggling eel. He stuffed it into a sugar bag he had tied round his waist and then waded out into slightly deeper water. Kate made an enormous swipe at the next eel, missed entirely, lost her footing and fell into the creek. She came up spluttering and laughing. She recovered sufficiently to eventually claim one eel. Anne made several ineffectual swipes and finally opted for holding the torch while Andrew did the bashing. When he had put half a dozen in the sugar bag, he suggested they’d had enough. They retired to the bank where he lit a fire and boiled the billy. The warm night and the warmth of the fire soon partially dried their clothes and induced the young women to feel relaxed and sleepy. It had, after all, been a long day. ‘It would be good to sleep here by the fire,’ Kate suggested.
‘Maybe next time,’ Andrew replied.
‘We could have a barbecue here by the creek,’ Anne said.
‘But I won’t be here then,’ Kate protested.
‘You’ll return eventually,’ Anne said, wondering how anyone could resist the allure of the high country.
The next morning Anne and Kate were still asleep when Andrew came back to the house after doing the outside jobs. He was having his breakfast when Anne and Kate appeared in the kitchen.
‘We were going to get breakfast for you,’ they said, almost in unison.
‘Then you’ll need to get up a lot earlier than this,’ he joked.
‘What is that in front of you?’ Anne asked, pointing to the brown jug on the table.
‘Milk, fresh from the cow this morning.’
‘You didn’t tell me you milked.’
‘You didn’t ask. As it happens, I don’t, generally. Maybe once or twice a week, if I have time, but I thought you would appreciate some fresh milk. I can show you how it’s done tomorrow morning, if you like – if you can get out of bed early enough, that is,’ he said.
‘It would have to be very early indeed,’ Anne replied. ‘I have to be at school by eight-thirty.’
So the following morning, Andrew roused them out just before five and, after an early morning cup of tea, they made their way out to the cowshed where a Hereford and Jersey-cross cow was chewing on some hay. ‘She’s bred from my mother’s old pure Jersey by my Hereford bull. The old cow was a better milker and gave more cream, but this one is good enough for me and the pups.’
‘Wow, look at those horns, Kate,’ Anne said as she eyed the cow with concern.
‘She’s as quiet as a lamb and, anyway, her head goes in that stall so she can’t move it very much,’ Andrew explained.
He put some feed in a tub and the cow put its head through and began eating the meal. Andrew secured her by pushing a piece of timber against her neck and holding it in place with a steel pin. That done, he pulled the near side rear leg back with a length of cord and tied it to a post. He sat down on a round stump about a foot off the ground and washed the cow’s teats with warm water. The steel bucket was placed
under the udder and he began to milk.
‘See, nothing to it,’ he said as the milk frothed up in the bucket. ‘Who wants a go?’
Anne and Kate took a teat each and began to pull. Between them they managed no more than about a thimbleful of milk.
‘No, like this,’ Andrew said, pulling up and down on the near teats. Fortunately, it was a very quiet and tolerant cow, and while Andrew kept adding small quantities of meal to her trough, she endured the milking quite happily. It took over half an hour for Anne and Kate to get half a bucket. They felt a little deflated when Andrew told them that his mother had been able to fill a two-gallon bucket in under ten minutes.
‘Practice, that’s all it is,’ he said. ‘Practice gives you the right technique. If you had to milk every morning, you’d soon get it right.’
He put aside some of the milk for the pups and took the remainder back to the house. ‘My mother used to separate every couple of days so we had our own butter during the war when most people were on rations. That’s one advantage of being on a property. You need never go hungry, if you’re willing to put in a bit of effort. A lot of people couldn’t be bothered as it’s so much easier to buy everything at a shop. No shops close by here, so I milk.’
‘I wouldn’t mind making my –’ Anne began and stopped suddenly. She blushed and looked away. She hadn’t meant to push herself but the words had just slipped out.
‘No, I shouldn’t think you’d be lazy,’ Andrew said. ‘Either of you,’ he added.
‘I get the impression that hard work ranks very highly on your list of priorities, Andrew,’ Kate suggested rather audaciously.
‘Got no time for slackers and bludgers, Kate. I had enough of that with my father and everything went down the drain. If you don’t want to work, you shouldn’t be on the land. Some, like Angus Campbell, can afford to employ people so they can act the part of squire, but most of us have to work damn hard to keep things going. And you’ve got to want to do it.’
